I am pretty much coming to the opinion that I really shouldn’t drink. Ever. At all. Between the feeling sick to my stomach (like, wanting to heave kind of sick) every time I drink even a couple (during the drinking!) to the headache and illness the day after, to the crappy weepy emotions it unlocks… well, the benefits are small, the downsides very large.

There was a party tonight – a retirement party of someone Den works with. It went pretty well, for the most part. But, of course, there was a newborn there. I carefully positioned myself to face in the opposite direction. I didn’t look. I walked clear of that area. But when the baby started crying during a speech I gripped the table. Den squeezed my knee to let me know that he was there and he knew.

There were also a couple of misplaced comments during the evening that were not meant to be hurtful in any way, but just reminded us of what we are missing. Comments about kids, about babies. Reminding us what we should have had.

At home, after lighting the candle and sitting in bed with my laptop, when I looked up to Den holding the candle and staring at it, as if saying goodnight to Devin, I choked. He crawled into bed beside me and I just lost it, sobbing. How could this have happened? How could we be holding a sheep and a candle, instead of our son?

I looked up to see a tear rolling down my husbands cheek. Somehow that hurts most of all. I know he must feel that way when he reads this blog, when he sees me crying… not just hurting inside, but hurting so terribly for your loved one’s pain, as well. It just kills me to know how much sorrow my husband must feel.

At work today I overheard someone talking with the pregnant co-worker. A boy, her first. That’s great, the other person said. Everyone wants a boy first. Then it doesn’t matter. Your husband must be so happy. Every husband wants a son to raise. That cut so deep. I turned to focus on something else, but I couldn’t shut it out. Denis and I lost the same thing, and yet we both experienced my pregnancy differently. We both had similar dreams and hopes for our son, but in many ways I will never understand what he has lost… will never understand his pain. It is so similar to mine, and yet different.

I am so glad he was and is standing beside me. He held me together. We could not stand alone. And yet I wish more than anything that I could spare him this. I wish I could make this right again, to heal his broken heart. But I know that I can’t.